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<title>The Strength In Being Fragile by Evadenly</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412693">The Strength In Being Fragile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evadenly/pseuds/Evadenly'>Evadenly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Daniels [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Meetings, University, drunk, fred is a nightmare, sheila is iconic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:41:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evadenly/pseuds/Evadenly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheila, a quiet, well-spoken potential wildfire of a girl didn't quite expect to find her spark.<br/>Fred, an absolute mess cruising his way through everything didn't expect to end the party quite like that.</p><p>Both, however, believe that you're meant to find your destination, no matter the journey taken.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sheila / Fred, Sheila Thomas / Fred Daniels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Daniels [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Your Words Can Plant Gardens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>University had gone as well as Fred had expected, too many parties and late nights, bordering on falling in with wrong crowd. He’d followed a friend of a friend to another party, the second or third of the night, somewhere off campus in a small flat. One of the girls was familiar - a girlfriend of one of his friends? He wasn’t quite sure, and the alcohol in his system didn’t make it easier to think. Or incline him to care.</p><p>They’d abandoned him as soon as they arrived, finding girls and disappearing into rooms, leaving him suddenly standing on the front porch by himself. After a moment of awkwardness, he drags his hands through his hair, readjusts his glasses and heads inside, hands shoved into pockets. He finds someone easily, grabbing a beer and lounging in the corner of the room. They're not exactly interesting, but it's something to pass the time, he supposes. When a group of lads offer an escape, he takes it with both hands, following them outside.</p><p>Fred gets on better with them, dicking around and acting like idiots. The beers flowed easily, the group soon sporting quite a pile the empties, surrounded by even more shattered ones on the ground. He'd taken the smoke when they'd passed it to him, assuming it just to be just another cigarette. By the second drag, however, he'd realised his mistake.</p><p>Not one to pass up an opportunity, he carried on, leaning back into the step and just enjoying the moment. Despite the autumn breeze, he's still warm enough in only his jumper, the alcohol taking the chill from his bones. The stars had yet to make a proper appearance, clouds obscuring his view and giving him something to mutter away to himself. The party inside was no longer interesting, too many people talking about too many boring subjects. He was surprisingly comfortable on the steps, stretched out and starting to dose, his beer slowly dropping from his grip. </p><p> </p><p>The shattering of his bottle startles him awake, the sudden change in position bringing with it an unwelcome wave of nausea. He retches into his hand, the idea finally springing to mind that he needed to find somewhere to throw up. Sure, Fred wasn’t classy, but he at least had high enough standards to not throw up on their steps.</p><p>He stumbles inside, hoping to find a bathroom before the alcohol makes an unwanted reappearance. Unsurprisingly, they’re all occupied by what sounds like several couples. That elicits another gag from Fred and he ducks into another room; he’s not going to throw up in front of everyone and he could always sneak out and blame it on someone else.</p><p>He doesn't get a chance to change his mind, bile rising as he desperately tries to find his target.</p><p>After emptying most of his stomach into a nearby plant pot, he steps back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. </p><p> </p><p>“You alright there?”  </p><p> </p><p>Sitting on the bed watching him with an echo of amusement on her face, sat a petite brunette, a textbook in her lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh - I think I’ve just thrown up on your plant.”</p><p> </p><p>She laughs lightly. “There’s no ‘I think’ about it. You most definitely did.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m Fred.”</p><p> </p><p>She glances at the other man’s outstretched hand. “Sheila, and I’m not shaking that.”</p><p> </p><p>He gags again, sticking his head back into the plant. He’s briefly aware of Sheila moving around him, her fingers trailing on his skin, but then he’s more focused on throwing up than her actions. She returns as he finishes, laying a gentle hand on his back.</p><p> </p><p>“Come sit down, sit on the bed. I’ve got you a bucket to throw up in. Saves my plants.” She leads him across to her bed, laying a towel down before allowing him to sit.</p><p> </p><p>Fred grins at her, easy and still very much intoxicated. He was charming, his hazel eyes green in the light of her room. For a while, he tries to concentrate enough to talk to her, embarrassed at his state and definitely not crushing on the girl next to him. He doesn’t come across very articulate, his words slurring and nonsensical, and ends up falling asleep rather quickly, leaning against Sheila. She just shakes her head, adjusts the bucket so it’s under his chin, and then carries on reading. He’s not the first man to stay in her room, but he was the first to put a smile on her face without even trying, to send butterflies swirling in her stomach. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, she too falls asleep, her textbook falling shut onto the floor and startling the two awake. They share a smile, Fred wrapping a blanket and then his arm around her. She shuffles closer, leaning into his side, and then they’re both asleep again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Or Burn Whole Forests Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sheila woke first, scrubbing her face as she tried to figure out why there was a bucket in her bed. It takes her a second longer to focus on the other body - <em>Fred,her brain finally supplied</em> - in her bed, one hand under the pillow and the other tucked under his chin, his auburn hair a mess across his face. With him asleep, she stares a bit longer; admiring the slight smirk to his smile, the constellations of freckles splashed across his face, the set to his jaw as he dreams. He’s cute, and it takes her a moment to catch her breath. He doesn't seem to have woken at all and she sighs happily, settling back down next to him and falling back asleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her alarm goes off for her lecture, startling her upright but barely waking Fred. He murmurs something under his breath before rolling over and pulling the duvet off Sheila. It was one way to get up, she supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dresses quickly, trying to ignore the sleeping man in her bed. She'd missed half of her work she was meant to have finished the night before, and she collects it all up with a quiet groan. Her study group would <em>not </em>be impressed. Her second alarm goes off, warning her she would be late if she didn't leave. Leaving a bottle of water and note explaining where she'd disappeared to, she takes another look at him. He was still cute, and she only hoped he'd still be there when she got back. A</span>
  <span>fter triple checking (again) that he’s safe and comfortable, she rushes out, pulling her scarf closer against the autumn wind, her hair waving in the breeze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time she returns from her lectures, Fred’s slightly more coherent, telling Sheila to get off when she tries waking him up. He doesn't seem to realise what's going on, but he's too busy falling asleep to care.</span>
  <span> She laughs, giving him back the blanket he'd kicked to the floor and sets down at her to start studying. She's distracted, can't help but be, her mind running away with possibilities about the man in her bed. Shaking her head to clear it, she tries to focus again, returning to suddenly boring subject in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another hour, Fred wakes with a quiet groan, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Still in the haze of sleep, he watches her a moment longer, curled on her chair as she chews her pen. Sheila’s hair hides her face, barely brushing her shoulders and tied in a messy ponytail, but Fred’s still sure she’s the most beautiful one on campus. Even frowning in concentration, her face screwing in frustration, she's got something to her, Fred already completely enamoured.</span>
</p><p>Suddenly realising<span> Fred’s awake and she's got an audience, she pushes her glasses up into her hair and turns around, smirking slightly. Her face lights up and Fred can't speak, kicking himself as he realises he must look like an absolute moron.</span></p><p>
  <span>Sheila laughs softly. “Afternoon, sleepyhead. How are you fe</span>
  <span>eling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I died.” He sounds rough, his voice scratching his throat as his shuffles to sit up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've got water on the table." She tells him, crossing the distance to get it for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." He takes it from her, gratefully swigging the glass. "You gonna sit?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits where he'd patted the bed, crossing her legs as she faces him. "How are you doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God. I think I'm dying." He laughs, shaking his head before retching. "No, I think I've died."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you were in a state last night. Gave my plant a <em>lovely</em> vomiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “‘m really sorry about that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not me you should be apologising to.” She teases, nodding towards the plant by the doorway. “Think it should be to the plant you threw up in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wink, he turns to the plant and apologises profusely. He somehow manages to keep a straight face, succeeding more than Sheila, sending her into giggles.</span>
</p><p>"You shouldn't hide your smile." He reaches to pull her hands from her face, lacing their fingers. "You've got a lovely smile."</p><p>It was her turn to blush and she ducks her head, using her free hand to loop her hair back behind her ear. "Thank you."</p><p>"I'm serious." He leans into her line of sight, his teeth chewing his lip. "It's beautiful. <em>You're</em> beautiful."</p><p>Sheila raises her head, not sure what to say next. Fred doesn't think, an all too common occurrence, reaching his hand to cup her face and leaning in to kiss her. She lets out a small gasp, leaning into it before pulling away suddenly.  </p><p>"I'm sorry, I just had to- I shouldn't have." </p><p>She cuts him off by pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Maybe if you go brush your teeth we can continue this."</p><p>Realisation dawns. "Oh, I'm sorry. That's so gross. I'm so sorry."</p><p>"Shh. Come on. I'll grab you a spare."</p><p> </p><p>Fred sorts himself out quickly, Sheila straightening her room a little while she waits. He looks (and feels) so much more human when he returns, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.</p><p>"Better?" </p><p>Sheila closes the gap, pressing herself against him, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. He kisses her back, gently steering themselves to the bed, their hands wandering. She pulls back again, taking a moment to look at him.</p><p>"Much better." She breathes, leaning back in. "So much better."</p>
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